Can't Live With Her, Can't Stab Her in the Face
by Peres
Summary: Gann wants something real. A punch in the nose qualifies.


**Author's note: A quick word of explanation may be in order. This fic was written as a Valentine's Day gift for steamboy, featuring her Kalach-Cha Cal, from 'Monsters'. Since 'Monsters' is nowhere near this point, this should be considered wildly AU. The prompt came from CMDA - 'Love Returns'. I think that's it... Enjoy!  
**

"So, that's it?"

They'd arrived in the City of the Dead. They'd brought themselves to the personal attention of the god of the dead, a tall, taciturn fellow in a boring grey hood and an equally boring grey mask with closed eyes. He'd seemed to have no problem seeing through it; one of the perks of divinity, Gann supposed.

They'd hacked Cal's soul out of the Wall of the Faithless, and the slimy thing had been just as irritating to deal with as the actual girl. She couldn't make anything simple, and this time the complication had taken the form of several foul-smelling golems and a Wall that shot rays. Seriously.

He would have rolled his eyes and told her exactly what he thought about that, but he'd been too busy killing the golems and dodging the rays.

Then she'd collapsed into a heap on the ground – landing on his foot, of course – and Kaelyn had followed her into the depths of her soul to free it from the Hunger.

He wasn't jealous. Of all the places he didn't want to be, inside Cal's somewhat divided soul ranked highly. Kaelyn was welcome to her. Really. It just... it grated, just a little. He'd been the one who followed her through countless dreams. He'd been there for every part of her misadventures. She had no business denying him this last piece and taking _Kaelyn_ with her instead.

It was rude. She was rude.

They'd woken up, Cal in one piece (as much as was usual for her, anyway). She wouldn't explain what had happened; she merely exchanged a glance with Kaelyn. Those of celestial blood did not deign to answer the questions of mere mortals.

Gann had never met anyone more infuriating. He'd decided that within mere hours of meeting Cal, and everything that had happened since had only served to strengthen the impression. Her moronic decisions in the Ashenwood, and the Skein, and the Academy... the girl never seemed to use her head for anything more than a paltry attempt to ornament her shoulders.

A full chamberpot would have been more ornamental, and would have devised better plans. It would at least have had _something_ in it.

Well, perhaps that was uncharitable of him. She had done a few things he approved of. She'd just gone about them in a typically lackwitted way.

Now, for example, she stood there in front of the god of the dead, with her recalcitrant stare and demanded, "So, that's it?"

"You know it is not," Kelemvor said gravely. "You know the sacrifice you made, and you will be honoured for it. But you must bid your companions farewell."

"What?"

That was Safiya. He refused to admit he'd opened his mouth. Not Gann-of-Dreams.

"She bound the spirit-eater to her own soul, to sleep eternally," Kaelyn said softly. "She has chosen her path... and when she and I meet again, it will be as enemies." Her wingtips fluttered as she bowed to Cal and the god she once served. "I grieve for that."

"Kaelyn-" Cal protested, but the half-celestial had already left.

If the cleric had disapproved of Cal's choice, Okku was jubilant. Gann half-shut his eyes against the bear-god's garish pelt. "Little one, I was right to trust you! By your sacrifice, we are free. All of my subjects shall sing of you, and you will never be forgotten!"

Safiya's farewell was more subdued, but she, too, was happy and grateful that the curse was ended and her lover's soul could rest. She did seem torn, that this peace had been bought by Cal's eternal servitude in the land of the dead.

It became awkwardly clear that they were waiting for him to say goodbye as well. Gann wasn't sure what he could say to this immature, irritating, uncontrolled amnesiac who'd just –"

"Silver tongue finally tarnished?" she jeered at him.

"Not at all," he retorted. "I merely find it challenging to grant the gift of my voice to ears so ill-educated to its appreciation." He looked at her, seeing the effects of the Hunger she'd tried so hard to baulk, meeting the blind, difficult gaze of her light aasimar eyes.

He shook his head. "I have never understood you or the choices you make. Perhaps I never will. I hope you enjoy this, I suppose. I definitely hope that when the fullness of time brings me back here, you'll leave a gate open for me to slip back into life."

"If only to be rid of you," Cal sniped back.

"Now, now, children," Safiya intervened. "We'll go home now, Kelemvor."

And they did.

Okku returned to the barrow and his long dreaming. Safiya returned to her Academy, to take control. Gann returned to Rashemen.

He didn't have anywhere else to go.

He wandered through the snowy landscape, alone as he had not been for far too long. No idiotic chatter from Cal, no boring technical discussion from Safiya, no bickering. No sanctimonious sermon from Kaelyn, no grumbling or lectures from Okku. Just peace.

He'd forgotten how quiet the woods could be.

How empty.

He strolled through dreams, relishing the renewed contact, the old game. He had not lost his touch with the women of Rashemen; he still remembered the words, the tones, the glances and subtle touches. They swooned at his feet as easily as they had before. Too easily, perhaps; he remembered the chase and the flirtations as more challenging, more interesting.

They all adored him. All he had to do was bat his eyelashes. He had but to utter a compliment, and they accepted it with grace and gratitude; only to express a wish, and it was fulfilled. Nobody ever disagreed with him.

It was... it was... _boring_.

Very well, he thought: that was a phase, and it was over. Time for something new.

A breeze blew him back to Mulsantir, and into the Veil. He talked Vesper into giving him a trial, and flirted outrageously with Magda and Amber Rose until they gave him the leading role in the next production.

He learned his lines, worked hard in rehearsal, and flattered the costume mistress until she got so flustered she jabbed a needle in his thigh.

That was a bad idea.

On opening night, his performance met with general acclaim. When he took his bows, Amber's hand in his, they applause was near-deafening. Every face turned up to him reflected approval, even worship. Yet he found himself scanning them for one, just one, with an unattractive, petulant scowl. Something genuine.

Gann faked the emotion, and they lapped it up. He didn't... he didn't feel. He wanted to feel again. He missed it.

He missed Cal. He missed deriding her efforts and her brainpower. He missed smirking at her and watching her turn bright red with fury, and the unholy sound of her shrieking at him. It had been fun, responding to her tirades with snide little comments that sent her up another ten decibels.

He'd enjoyed training with her – the minor bruises he'd carried ignored in the satisfaction of seeing the massive ones she'd sported in turn. It had been even better when she'd done something monumentally stupid, such as the time she nearly spitted him like a pig, and he could finally give vent and express exactly how irritating she was, in all her stubbornness and childish temper. He could count the number of times he'd really, really yelled at her – but he could remember them all, what he'd said, and how she'd given back as good as she'd gotten. Or sometimes more.

He had irritated her exactly as much as she'd irritated him, and it surprised Gann that he missed it.

Time at the Veil went past. The acclaim remained loud as Gann strutted and posed and flirted at Magda's direction, but it all felt hollow. Aimless.

He didn't feel at all.

He remembered the fight they'd had when she said he was only along to catch arrows, and it warmed something inside him. That girl had pissed him off like nobody before or since, and he still missed it. It had been nothing more than irritation, but irritation was more than nothing.

And it was something real.

Gann wanted real.

So he left the Veil and returned to the woods.

The seasons fled by – exactly how many of them, Gann didn't know. He wasn't really paying attention.

He should have been. He should have been paying attention to the alarm calls of the birds. He should have been paying attention to the rustle in the undergrowth. And he should really have been paying especial attention to the enraged wild boar.

He wasn't, but his reflexes had always been good. He threw himself out of the way as the beast turned, felt a tusk rip through his leg –

That was a close one, he thought, then looked up at grey walls, grey sky, grey god.

Ah. Well.

That was awkward.

"Gannayev-of-Dreams," Kelemvor greeted him. "You have returned quickly to my realm."

Beside the god stood the small, scowling, graceless figure of an aasimar girl with hair that had never grown back properly. "Let me guess... you stopped to admire your reflection and some angry father bashed you over the head with a candlestick? Or was it an aunt with a poisoned hat pin?"

"I am curious, Cal. Is that truly the best you best you could do?"

She practically growled, and he smirked. Oh, that was satisfying.

"Cal requested to greet you," the god said. "A small space of time before you are taken to the Wall." He turned his back.

Gann tilted his head, an idea unfurling in the back of his mind. "Missed me?"

"Don't flatter yourself any further. I never got the chance before, but I really, really wanted to..." she stepped closer to him, a measuring look in her eyes. There was a blur of motion as her hand came up-

- and she punched him in the nose.

Cal flashed him an angelic smile as he put his hands up to his poor, abused face. "I have wanted to do that for ages."

"That explains a lot," he said, rather muffled. "Are you quite done, or are the other parts of my anatomy you intend to abuse? I will hit back this time."

"Oh, no, I'm done." She looked more serious, suddenly, older. "This is your last chance, you know."

"Oh? There's a beautiful philanthropic cleric wandering in the wilderness who'll call me back to life and receive my _ardent_ thanks?"

"Can't you get your head out of your –"

"Come," Kelemvor said.

"- for just one second?" Cal glared at him.

"No," Gann answered them both at the same time. "I'm not going to the Wall, Lord Kelemvor."

"You are Faithless, are you not?" the god asked.

"Not anymore. I have changed my mind." He turned a wide and charming grin on both of them. "I enlist."

"Enlist!" Cal spluttered. "Gann, you-"

Kelemvor silenced her with a wave of his gloved hand, and bent over Gann. The closed eyes of the grey mask scrutinised him carefully, for a small eternity.

He straightened.

He nodded. "Take him, Cal. Teach him."

"What – Lord Kelemvor, I don't want-" but the god was gone.

The girl rounded on him. "So now I'm stuck with you for all eternity?" Cal snapped. "Didn't you have anything better to do?"

"Like rotting in a Wall? Believe me, it seems more and more tempting every instant. Why did I think this was a good idea?" But he knew. The glorious irritation was rising within him. Already he felt more alive than he had in months – and that was funny since he was dead.

"Because you couldn't just let me enjoy a nice, peaceful afterlife," Cal tossed over her shoulder. "Oh, no, you just had to come along and spoil it all. You just hate me that much."

"It's not all about you," Gann gritted his teeth and replied. "Use whatever poor excuse for an ego-strangled brain that yet lurks under your _stupid_ haircut."

"Says the man with hair hanging all over his face." Her voice turned even more spiteful. "Anyone would think you're passionately in love with me and couldn't bear to be parted from me any longer."

"Don't be ridiculous."


End file.
